


Don't Wanna Be Friends

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blowjobs, Friendship, Kitchen Sex, M/M, feelings reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will doesn't want to be friends. Hannibal's hurt until he learns why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Wanna Be Friends

Hannibal's in the middle of pouring the sauce for the second course when he hears Will and Alana conversing in the corridor adjacent to the dining room. Will's voice sounds harried, curt even. There's an even murmur, and then Alana says something Hannibal can't catch, and then Will's voice rising with annoyance.

"You already know perfectly well that I don't want to be _friends_ with Dr. Lecter." The door to the bathroom down the hall closes hard. Alana returns to the dining room.

Hannibal barely pauses before continuing to pour. The sauce swirls in an intricate loop. There.  
  
Dinner continues without a hitch. As always Hannibal is the perfect host. If he pays slightly less attention to Will for the remainder of the meal, no one beside Alana notices. Will, for the most part, keeps his focus on his plate, avoiding the steady conversation around him. He glances once or twice at Hannibal, as though asking a question he hasn't yet formed fully in his mind.

*  *  *

Later, as the guests prepare to depart, Alana draws him aside. "You heard us earlier, didn't you?" It’s evident that she knows he did, she’s only asking for formality’s sake.

Hannibal admits nothing with a slight shrug. "It hardly matters."

"It does matter. Ask Will, or better yet, let Will talk to you."

"I hardly think that's advisable." They have no need to discuss this. Perhaps one day, during one of their conversations he will ask Will why the idea of Hannibal’s friendship is so distasteful, but that day will most likely never arrive.

"Do you trust me?" Alana asks after a moment. Her smile at Hannibal’s brief hesitation is wry. "To the extent that you believe I value our friendship and wouldn't wish any hurt upon you?"

"Yes," in that case he does.

"Then let Will talk to you."

She smiles at him, squeezes his arm, and then leaves.

Will lingers noticeably, drawing off to one side until all the guests have left. Hannibal wonders about that. He would have thought Will would be glad to leave. Perhaps Hannibal shouldn't have asked him tonight. Perhaps his is poor company after all.

"It's getting late." Hannibal straightens one of the cushions and waits.

Will glances up at him, then looks at the clock, noticing the hour for the first time. "Of course, you must be tired. I should go."

He reaches for his coat, but there’s still a hesitancy to his actions.

_Ask Will._

"Was there something,"

"No, no," Will forces a smile, and it's that gesture that truly grieves Hannibal. Will’s smiles have always been won before. "I should go. Goodnight, Dr. Lecter."

"Goodnight." Hannibal closes the door after him.

Well then. He gave him a chance and that's that.

*  *  *  
  
Hannibal doesn't see Will during the next week. They have no appointment scheduled. Will’s not working any cases at the moment. There’s no reason for him to call, so there’s point in being disappointed that he doesn’t.

He holds another dinner party the following Saturday night and the joint he serves belongs to a man of a familiar height and build. A test to see if...

He doesn't finish the main course and one of his guests asks if he's well.

"Yes, I fear I simply choose poorly on the lamb."

He stores the rest of the meat at the back of his freezer and leaves it there.

*  *  *  
  
On Thursday, he has Jack for dinner.

"Have you seen Will lately?"

"No," Hannibal says after a moment’s reflection. "I have not."

"He seems...more agitated of late. I wondered if he had said anything to you."

"What makes you think he's agitated?"

"There's just something off. More off than usual." Jack leaves it there.

Hannibal contemplates this as he sips his brandy. It’s not his fault if Will is having trouble. Not this time anyway. If Will desires help, he can always talk about what’s troubling him during his appointments, or he can call someone that he finds more desirable as a friend.

*  *  *  
  
On the following Tuesday, Will's early for his appointment, pacing back and forth in the waiting room when Hannibal opens the door.

"Will, come in."

Will continues his pacing once he’s inside the office. "I never thanked you for dinner."

"You didn't have to."

Will shakes his head. "It was rude not to."

Hannibal can't disagree with that. He takes his seat.

"I didn't, I never meant," Will catches himself, still shaking his head. He takes the opposite chair with a sigh.

"You don't have to say anything."

"Clearly I do, because you've been withdrawing from me for the last two weeks." He looks at Hannibal straight on. "Ever since your dinner party, or at least the last one I was invited to, which leads me to believe you heard what I said to Alana."

Hannibal’s tie rests uncomfortably tight against his throat. "I heard what you said yes." This is not a conversation they need to have.

"But did you hear all of it or just part." Will's voice is strangled. Apparently this is as difficult for him to speak as it is for Hannibal to hear it. "That's what I've been trying to work out. Either way could have been responsible for you choosing to avoid me."

Will's the most astute person Hannibal's ever met, and so he doesn't bother arguing with him.

"I just wanted to know which it before I made a fool of myself. Not that it matters because you've obviously decided I'm not worth it."

"That's you projecting." Hannibal responds automatically.

"Is it?" Will looks at him. "Then why..."

“You expressed a very clear desire to not to be friends with me to Dr. Bloom,” Hannibal smooths an imaginary crease from the lapel of his jacket. “I am simply respecting that.”

“I don’t want to be friends.” Will says.

“Very well.” Hannibal leans back in his chair.

“I mean,” Will pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I don’t want to be _just_ friends.” He looks up quickly, looking, really looking at Hannibal. “But I don’t know if I’d be any good at…anything else.”  His shoulders hunch dejectedly. “Especially since I’m not very good at even being friends to begin with.”

“I think you do just fine.”

Will’s smile is brief, amusement and misery joined. “You must have low expectations.”

“On the contrary, I have the exact opposite.” Hannibal decides this is one appointment that definitely needs wine. “Shall we have a glass of wine and we can discuss it further?”

“Is that the psychiatrist’s manner of suggesting we slip into something more comfortable?” Will asks, and then, “Shit, you’re my psychiatrist. We’re...that’s not…” He stands, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Shit.”

“Never official.” Hannibal tells him as he goes to his cabinet.

Will blinks at that, taking a step back to consider. “Did you do it that on purpose?”

“Perhaps.” He gets the glasses and sets them down. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me why you don’t think you’d be good at anything else.” Hannibal pours.

“You already know I sleep walk. I don’t like being singled out. I have what people consider too many dogs.” There’s an unspoken segue into what a potential lover would complain about there, that Will leaves unexplored. Hannibal finds it endearing.

He holds out the wine. “They make you more content, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Will reaches for the glass.

“Then the dogs stay.” Hannibal’s hand brushes Will’s wrist.

“I sweat, in my sleep.” Will murmurs absently.

“I’ll lick it from your skin.” Too soon. He must tread carefully here.

Will’s eyes widen and he sets the glass down carefully before he can spill it. ‘I’m sorry. That was a little…I’m not sure if I can.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’d like?” Hannibal suggests. He must go slow, but not too slow. Already Will is drawing closer to him than he had previously planned. Planned this soon at any rate.

“You mean sexually.” Will eyes him uncomfortably.

“I mean ideally. If you could have any particular kind of relationship, what would you like, Will?” He offers the wine again and Will takes it.

Will eyes the desk, the bookshelves, glances up toward the balcony. “I want someone who’s there in the night, but isn’t hurt when I want to be alone.” He studies the wine in his glass. “Someone who doesn’t need to be told they look attractive.  Because my idea of what’s attractive and what’s not, varies from the ordinary and I often…don’t get it.” He shrugs. “Someone who can handle my “quirks’ as they say. Someone who doesn’t want to cohabit, or go out on dates all the time. Someone I can talk to, but am comfortable in silence with. Someone who makes me want.” He falls silent.

“Want what, Will?” Hannibal is patient. He can wait, even as he desires to run his fingertips over Will’s jaw.

“To touch. To be touched.” Will glances at him over his shoulder. “Is that too much to ask for?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

“What about you?” Will turns to face him. “What do you want?” He takes a steadying drink of wine, still not looking directly at Hannibal.

“Someone who possesses a good palate. Someone I can converse with easily, someone with their own interests and amusements, who doesn’t feel neglected when I have to work late.” Hannibal pauses, and then, “You.”

Will’s eyes move upward, focusing on Hannibal’s face. “You could have your pick.”

“I’m very selective.”

“I’m not…” _what you really want…_ He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to.

“I know what I want, Will. And I think you do too.”

Will takes another sip of wine. “No social demands?”

“I would like you to attend the occasional dinner party.”

“But not every time.”

“Not every time.” Hannibal sets his wine aside. Now or never. “I’d like to kiss you now.”

He watches the bob of Will’s throat as he considers. “I think that would be acceptable.”

Will sets his own glass down and looks at him, waiting for it.

Hannibal kisses him slowly, focusing on the way Will leans into it after a moment. His hands are still, not anxious, just waiting. Hannibal appreciates the way he responds as his senses of arousal are heightened. Will’s heart rate rises, his stance widens slightly. He cups the back of Will’s neck just enough to let Will know his hand is there, holding him. He tastes exactly how Hannibal sensed he would, but richer somehow, waiting for someone to pluck him open and devour him.

Will’s erection brushes against his thigh.

Will pulls away, breathing rapidly. “I…I’m sorry.”

Hannibal would like nothing more than to push Will down upon his desk and cut the jeans from his legs, until Will is bare and he could show him what true desperation was.

For now, he steps back. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Will.”

“That was…nice.” The words are hesitant, as though Will’s not sure he should comment on it, or leave it alone.

Hannibal smiles. “Why don’t you come over for dinner one night this week?” He issues the invitation as casually as ever.

Will nods, then, “Is…tomorrow night too soon?”

Hannibal’s smile broadens. “Of course not.”

“Good.” A brief flutter of Will’s own smile in return, “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Eight.” Will nods again, and leaves.

Hannibal finishes his wine, a satisfied taste on his tongue.

*  *  *

One day doesn’t leave Hannibal much time to prepare, but perhaps that’s best. Sometimes the simple methods are the way to go. This is often as true in seduction as in cooking. He will keep it simple, but irresistible.

*  *  *

Will appears on his doorstep at 7:56, which Hannibal finds charming.

His shirt is freshly ironed, the collar still damp. “I thought about wearing a tie, but figured that might be a bit much.” His hand rests against his chest for a moment. “Reminds me too much of lecturing.”

“Ties have a variety of uses beyond mere respectability.” Hannibal observes. He reaches for the bottle of Rioja he has selected for the evening. Dinner is ready. Everything is perfect.

Will raises an eyebrow. “Why Doctor Lecter, are you suggesting something kinky?”

Hannibal just smiles, opening the wine and letting it breathe. “I am not averse to it.” There, let Will think on that. He sets out the plates, before adding, “But not tonight.” He reaches for the bottle and sniffs appreciatively before taking Will’s glass to fill it.

Will looks at him. “What if I wanted it to be tonight?”

Hannibal barely pauses, pouring steadily. “Then I think that would be most enjoyable, but if you changed your mind, I would be neither offended, nor angered.”

“Always in control.” Will murmurs.

“Yes.” Hannibal holds out the glass of wine to him; Will takes it.

“What if I wanted,” Will’s tongue flicks cross his lower lip; Hannibal’s eyes pursue the motion of it, savoring the sight. “you to lose control?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I…it might be.” Will’s face has a wary look to it now. “I’m really not sure yet.”

“Then it would be very easy for me to lose control around you, Will.”

Will looks at him, really looks at him and Hannibal is mesmerizes by the varying desires he sees there. Fear, lust, hesitation, want, hope. The hope intrigues him the most.

He walks around the counter and moves up next to Will with the litheness of a lion. Will stands perfectly still as Hannibal circles him slowly.

“After dinner then,” Hannibal’s thumb trails down the back of Will’s neck, stopping just above the collar. “I will show you just how easily it can be.”

There’s a momentary hitch in Will’s breath as he swallows, before he’s able to respond. “Why not now?”

“Because I invited you to dinner and it would be rude to not feed you first.”

Will’s lips twitch. “Is this payback for me saying I didn’t want to be friends?”

His smile is infectious. “Perhaps.”

“Very well.” Will spreads his hands. “Take your revenge.”

“Oh, I will, most definitely.” His gaze lingers on Will’s throat, enjoying the flush his words send through Will’s skin.

Hannibal picks up the plates and the bottle. “Bring the glasses, if you please.” He leads the way into the dining room.

Will sets the bottle and glasses down before taking his seat. He glances at the plates for the first time and smiles in appreciation for the dish he sees there. “This is nice.”

Roast lamb with garlic and rosemary, new potatoes and a fresh salad. Simple, but apparently perfect for Will. 

Hannibal’s amusement reveals itself again. “You mean it’s not as fancy as most of my dinners.”

“Your words, not mine.” Will takes a bite. “I know I don’t have the most sophisticated palate.”

He’s thinking on what Hannibal said yesterday. Hannibal considers how to reassure him. “Do you enjoy the food, Will?”

“Yes.”

“Then that is enough.” Hannibal takes a bite and smiles at him.

*  *  *

Dinner, in all its simplicity, is exquisite. This time Hannibal has Will all to himself, and tonight Will is nervous just for him. Of course, there'd be a certain satisfaction if Will were more relaxed about this, but as it is Hannibal finds his nerves sweetly gratifying.

Will cuts a bite from his lamb and sets it on his tongue. Hannibal watches the motion of his jaw as he chews, picturing it occupied in other activities. Will on his knees, Will splayed out before him.

"You're staring, Dr. Lecter." Will swallows his mouthful.

"Am I? I must apologize."

Will sets his fork down. "Perhaps if we got the formalities out of the way."

"The formalities," Hannibal is amused.

"Yes. I...would definitely like to have sex after dinner, and from what I'm guessing, you would too." Will says all of this matter-of-factly.

"Most assuredly."

"Very well then." Will reaches for his wine. It's settled. He takes a sip and cuts another piece of meat.

Hannibal asks him about the most recent case and Will describes it in-between bites. Hannibal observes the way Will’s hands hold the fork and knife and thinks of his mouth on Will’s wrists.

He wipes his mouth on his napkin and sets it aside. Will looks at him, eager, but still nervous.

“If you’d be so good as to follow me in the kitchen.” Hannibal picks up his plate and Will’s.

“No dessert?” Will inquires, following.

“It can wait.” Hannibal sets the plates down. He turns to Will who swallows, and nods.

Hannibal’s hand slides over his hip, drawing him up against the counter. “The best seductions, Will, start in the kitchen.”

He can feel the heat of Will radiating off him through his clothes. Hannibal drinks it in, letting Will get used to the feel of him standing closer and closer, until Will’s pressed between the counter and Hannibal. Will’s heart is like distant thunder.

“Tell me why you don’t want to be friends.”

Will opens his mouth and Hannibal’s fingers trace down the pocket of his jeans.

 “ _Just_ friends,” he amends before Will can protest.

“Because,” Will sucks in his breath as Hannibal’s fingers continue their journey across his crotch, carefully navigating around his cock. “I can’t stop, thinking about...touching you.”

Hannibal travels up his chest, feeling Will’s body lean into his touch, as Will grows more comfortable with Hannibal in his space. This seduction is oddly specific, the need to put Will at ease coupling with the desire to unravel him further.

“Specifically you touching me. I sit in your office, and all I want is to fuck,”

Hannibal pauses, studying the dull flush in Will’s skin. Will’s cock is tenting the front of his jeans now, spurred on by the confession and the delicate teasing of Hannibal’s hand.

“Do you desire to fuck me, Will?” That would be an interesting experience.

“Yes.” Will dares to say it. “But I also want you to fuck me. I….just want you.” His shoulders relax as he says this, laying his desire bare for Hannibal to feast upon. “If you don’t want any of that, I understand.”

“Will.”

“I mean, I know,”

Hannibal puts a stop to his floundering by placing his hand over Will’s crotch. Will looks up at him startled, and Hannibal decides this is the right moment to kiss him again.

This time Will’s already more adjusted to the notion. He tilts his head up, lips parted, anticipating Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal caresses him lightly as he makes the most of kissing Will, tentative, explorative, drawing Will deeper.

His cock pushes restlessly Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal pulls Will’s head back, his mouth a bare inch away from Will’s.

Will’s eyes look directly into his. “If I told you to stop right now, would you?”

Every desire in Hannibal’s body wants to clasp his hand over Will’s mouth, drown out those words as he bites and claims, dragging Will up against the wall and pinning him there.

His fingers tighten as he answers, “Yes.” For Will, and Will alone, he would do that.

Hannibal can feel the exact moment Will’s body assimilates the full acceptance of that.

Will’s tongue lingers against the roof of his mouth as he gazes at Hannibal, then he wets his lips, “Then don’t stop.”

Hannibal doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He pulls Will up by the hips setting him on the kitchen counter, reaching for his jeans. Will’s hands are on his back, slipping under his shirt, and his mouth, daringly, on Hannibal’s neck.

_Take him upstairs, fuck him in a bed, where he belongs._

_No._

_He belongs here in Hannibal’s kitchen where Hannibal brings all his creations, his prey. Will is more than that though. Will is his._

He tugs Will’s jeans and boxers down to his ankles and lets them rest there, trailing his hands back up Will’s thighs, as he admires the sight waiting for him.

Will draws back, bracing himself against the counter as Hannibal admires him. The flush has spread across his neck, down his chest. He’s still nervous, and now Hannibal wants to relax him just a fraction, just enough to hone the fear and make it his.

He leans down to tug Will’s jeans all the off, pulling his shoes and socks from his feet, then, casually, lifts Will’s legs over his shoulders, to suck at his cock.

Will arches back across the kitchen counter, mouth opening wide in a silent gasp.

Hannibal does this well as he does all things he cares to do.Will’s reactions are a delight. There’s the way his knuckles are stark white against the counter, the tense rise and fall of his chest as he pants. There’s already the faintest spread of sweat across his underarms as Hannibal draws off, letting Will bob wetly across his lips.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to be as good at that.” Will says weakly. The sheen of desperation upon him is appealing as a new cut of meat.

Hannibal chuckles, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” The thought of Will on his knees sends a tendril of heat curling pleasantly through him. He grips Will’s ass, sucking him down once more.

“God,” Will arches further, lapsing into incoherent murmurings. His shirt rides up across his stomach and Hannibal watches the muscles there tighten as he tries to control himself.

He drags his lips off slowly, letting the faintest hint of teeth graze along Will’s cock.

Will’s breath is coming faster now. He’s close. Hannibal lowers his ass back down on the counter. “You’ll come when I’m inside you, and not before.”

He steps back, and goes over to the row of cabinets. Will half pushes himself up, bare legs hanging off the counter.

Hannibal selects the bottle of coconut oil and returns to Will.

“Lean back.”

“This isn’t very sanitary.” Will comments, but leans back anyway. “But it’s your kitchen.”

“That is correct.” Hannibal pours a pool of oil into his palm. “It’s my kitchen.” He slides his hand over Will’s cock just to tease him, and then down between his legs to push through the first tight ring of muscle, watching the way Will tries not to tense at the intrusion. Hannibal lays his left hand flat on Will’s belly, pressing him down flat on the counter as he pushes inside.

“Do you indulge in a lot of kitchen sex?” Will asks, swallowing deeply. Hannibal’s past the knuckle, feeling Will flex tightly around him. He stretches him only a little.

“What do you think?” Hannibal withdraws his finger. He wants to make Will feel this, remember this moment of getting fucked on this counter.

“I think it’s a rare event saved for a special occasion, dependent on the right situation, and the right partner.” Will says. He thought that automatically, rather than taking the time to work through any inner personal feelings. Hannibal’s impressed, even if he wonders if this would be better if Will were jealous and trying harder for his attention.

He doesn’t have to try for Hannibal’s attention though. He’s the only one who has it.

Enough. He reaches for the button on his trousers, but Will’s hand closes over it first. Hannibal looks up at him, letting Will do this. His hands move steadily, unbuttoning Hannibal and drawing him forth. There’s warmth and confidence in his touch here. Hannibal enjoys seeing Will like this.

Will studies the length of him then reaches for the oil. He pours a little in his palm and starts rubbing it over Hannibal’s cock.

Hannibal exhales as the touch. “Should I get a condom?”

“No.” Will says, stroking along the underside, up to the head and back again until Hannibal is rigid in his grip. “I want you bare.”

He has to feel the tremor running through Hannibal at his words.

“Unless, you’d rather,” A brief second of uncertainty crosses Will’s brow. “I’d understand if,”

“Of course I want you bare.” Hannibal leans in, brushing his lips across Will’s. “Will.”

Will straightens up on the counter, “Then what are you waiting for?” His hand is still holding Hannibal, bringing him closer. Hannibal kisses him again at the first feel of his cock across Will’s hole.

“In me. Now.” Will steadies his glasses. Hannibal takes him at his word. He leans into it, leans into Will, easing into him with one long, steady motion.

Will leans back across the counter as Hannibal sinks into him.

This is what he’s been waiting for.

Will closes his eyes, his hips rising to meet Hannibal’s thrusts. His body in motion is a lovely thing. Hannibal strokes his hand up over Will’s chest, to his throat, caressing him. Will catches his hand and brings it to his lips for a breathless kiss. He sucks on Hannibal’s fingertips and Hannibal growls low in his throat.

His hands pull free to slide down to Will’s hips, and Will sits up, wrapping his legs around him.

“Fuck me.”

Hannibal obliges this request with a long, quick thrust. Will kisses the side of his neck. Hannibal can’t help wondering what’s running through his mind when Will opens his mouth and tells him.

"I thought you were going to use your tie."

Hannibal draws back, withdrawing just slightly from Will, barely nudging his cock along his hole.

"That didn't mean you had to stop." Will mutters.

“Do you want me to use a tie?” Hannibal nudges him again, and Will’s head falls backs before he can control himself.

"The tie can wait. Till next time."

Hannibal nips at his ear, pleased at the words. _Next time._ Another time with Will. He adjusts his position and thrusts deeper. Will clutches at him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He's sinking deeper with each  rough stroke. Will holds his own, sweat sliding down his back, and then, he groans, and _bites_ , quick and sharp across Hannibal’s shoulder. The shock of it undoes Hannibal, and he grips Will bruisingly hard as he comes inside him.

He can’t think, _Will’s teeth, on him,_  and then Hannibal wraps a hand around Will, bringing him to climax quickly, letting Will ride out the last of his faint strokes.

Will rests his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, his breath close to where his teeth have graced Hannibal’s skin. “I should warn you, I have a tendency to get sleepy after sex.” He straightens up, eyeing the mess that’s spattered across his chest, and Hannibal’s.

“It’s all right.” Hannibal slips out of Will, reaching for a dishcloth. Politely, he offers it to Will first, and waits as Will wipes himself off. He would like Will to join him in his bed upstairs, to stay the night and awake with him by his side, but he senses that is an activity for another time.

“I…” Will slides off the counter with a slight wince. “Think I’ll be feeling that tomorrow.”

“Something to remember me by.”

“As if I could forget.” Will’s voice is soft, affectionate. He holds the towel out and Hannibal takes it, cleaning himself off in a perfunctory manner. Will dresses casually, completely relaxed now. He runs a hand through his hair, bringing it down to cover his slight yawn belatedly.

“So, I’ll say goodnight.”

“Thank you for coming.” Hannibal can’t help it, the smile forms upon his lips and Will laughs.

“You…” He shakes his head, and moves in to kiss Hannibal. “I’ll see you soon.”

Hannibal savors the press of his lips. He can smell his own skin on Will’s teeth. He nods. “Of course.”

He walks Will to his front door, and there, he curls a hand around Will’s neck, drawing him close for one further kiss.

Will breathes deeply. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Will.” Hannibal stands there in the doorway, watching Will stroll down to his parked car.  Only once Will has driven away, does he close the door. Hannibal stands there a moment, a faint smile on his lips, before he goes to clean up the kitchen.

*  *  *

When Hannibal wakes in the morning there’s a message on his answering machine.

Will, hesitant, overly aware of the machine, “This is silly, but I just wanted to call, and say good morning.”

Hannibal smiles.


End file.
